A Fugitive at Hogwarts
by CaulesCortinae
Summary: A strange little girl wanders in to Kings Cross Station looking for something unusual, but little does she know that those unusual things are looking for her too.
1. A Purple Pair of Shoes

There was a small whoosh of air, then the doors opened and the silence of the carriage was shattered by the roar of the station. A herd of haggard men, tired women and excitable children poured out onto the platform, chattering away, caught up with the rush of their lives and not once pausing to notice a small, skinny girl peering out from behind one of the carpet-covered seats. The little girl waited silently until they had all gone, then swung her rucksack over her shoulder and nervously hopped off the train. She wove her way down the platform to the gates and stood huddled behind a column until she could slip through the barriers without the guard noticing. She hurried quickly over to the wall of a shop and hunkered down on a metal ledge that jutted out near the bottom. If anyone had been watching her, they would have thought that this was a girl who certainly did not want to be seen.

The curious thing was, Clara Darnell had no real need of hiding behind columns or sneaking around. Ever since she was little, she had had the unnerving ability to go unnoticed in almost any situation, even when someone was looking right at her – it was almost as if people just forgot that she was there. This in itself was also a curious thing, as Clara's bright white hair, chalk-white skin and otherworldly blue eyes didn't exactly lend themselves to disguise.

So Clara sat, unseen, on that ledge, watching the shoes of strangers walking by. Grubby trainers, smart patent heels, businessmen's brogues, all paraded by in a never-ending catwalk of monotony. Clara hunched up her knees and rested her chin on her elbow. People could be so boring sometimes, wearing a uniform even if they didn't realise it. Unusual herself, Clara had always been attracted to unusual things, and spent most of her free time trying to find them. So far, her best catch was a surgeon dressed as a burger who tried to beat up a lamp-post with a carpet.

Unfortunately, King's Cross didn't seem to be very interesting this morning. Clara sighed, and was about to go to find a new watching post when a pair of bright purple, perfectly bizarre, crocodile-skin loafers with giant silver buckles strode past. Clara looked up. This was it! Heaving up her tattered rucksack, she swerved to avoid a gaggle of giggling schoolgirls and hurried off after that so unusual pair of shoes.

The shoes' owner turned out to be an elderly lady wearing a green dress and a hat with a stuffed vulture on it (even better!). She was busy berating a tubby boy of about eleven, occasionally giving him a whack with her big, red handbag for good measure. The boy was pushing a trolley with a huge box on it and was clutching – was that a toad? Wow, this day was really perking up! Clara sidled along behind them, blending in and trying to look innocent.

"What did I_ tell_ you about double-checking your list? Sometimes I wonder if your great-uncle Algie wasn't just seeing things when you bounced that day – surely no-one as idiotic as you could ever be a wizard! And what do you have to say for yourself, hmm?" The boy winced as she hit him again with her handbag.

"I'm sorry, Gran. It's only a blanket though, I'm sure I'll manage withou- ooofff!" A double hit, right in the stomach.

"It's not the point if you can 'manage without it' – Enid knitted it especially for you and she'll be very upset. Now I'll have to deal with her making exploding soup for weeks! You'll have to send her an owl apologising, and it had better be a good one! Right, we're nearly there. Smarten yourself up, Neville, you're looking awfully scruffy!" Neville grimaced and tugged down on his jumper.

Well now, this was beginning to get a little bit more than interesting! Were these people crazy? Neville and his Gran shuffled through the ticket gates despite not seeming to actually have a ticket, and Clara followed closely, squeezing through behind a woman with a pram. The pair continued bickering as they walked down the platform.

"I'm sure it was this one, Neville," said the old lady, poking a brick column between platforms 9 and 10. Clara gaped at them, her skulking forgotten – the old woman's whole hand had disappeared through the wall!

"Yes, this is it. Right then, you first, young man. Take your trolley." She prodded the boy and he nervously pushed the trolley up to the wall. "Quickly, boy, you're being conspicuous!"

With another whack of the handbag, the boy tripped through the wall and was gone. Glancing round at the oblivious commuters, the old lady followed him. Clara continued to gawp at the wall for a while before she gave her head a little shake and stepped through. She had a feeling that what she would find was going to beat the burger-surgeon hands down.


	2. Through the Looking Glass

Clara un-scrunched her eyes, un-balled her fists and looked around her. There was another platform, _inside the wall._ Throngs of people crowded around wreathed in steam, hurrying to and fro and shouting enthusiastically at each other. Squawks and screeches from a bizarre menagerie of strange animals added to the confusion, and Clara ducked as a small, black bat flew over her head, closely pursued at ground level by a puffing middle-aged man pointing a stick at it. What was going on? Hadn't any of these people noticed that they were _inside a hard, solid barrier that was solid and hard and people __**shouldn't be able to**__** walk through hard, solid barriers especially if they're solid and hard!**_

With a rush of air, two identical red-haired boys tumbled through the wall behind her, bickering furiously.

"Look Fred, I swear it was him - I'm sure I saw his scar and everything!"

"It can't have been - he looked like his clothes hadn't been washed in weeks! I hardly think the great, famous, LOADED Harry Potter can't afford to get his clothes washed every once in a while. Even WE have clean clothes."

"I dunno, maybe he spent all his riches on a chocolate frog card obsession or something, fame can do weird things to little kids... - LEE!" Clara leapt out of the way as the twins bowled past her to jump on the back of a boy with dreadlocks. Dodging past them, Clara finally got a view of the train.

Surrounded by swirling plumes of pearly-grey steam, a bright red engine rose out of the fog, shining and gleaming and powerful. Behind it, slightly blurred by the steam, an orderly line of fourteen carriages waited. Clara stepped forward towards the engine. It certainly _looked_ like a normal steam engine, and all the steam around it would of course seem to indicate that it was, but there was something slightly odd. If Clara wasn't mistaken, the engine seemed to be ..._glowing_. Clara stood on her tiptoes and reached out to touch the engine's shiny, metal belly. A rush of glowing warmth immediately flowed thickly through her, as if someone were pouring warm honey down through her fingers. Gasping, Clara snapped her hand back in shock and clasped it to her stomach. Her arm was tingling fuzzily, but she didn't think she'd been burned. No - the metal had been cold, rather than warmed by the coal as she had expected. To be honest though, Clara was rather beginning to expect the unexpected today.

A harsh whistle startled Clara out of her reverie. The train was leaving! Without a moment's hesitation, Clara hurried for the nearest set of doors. Ducking to avoid all the hands reaching out of the train's windows to wave goodbye, she just squeezed on to the carriage behind the boy (was Neville his name?) whom she had seen earlier. Just as all the doors were being slammed shut, his grandmother hurriedly shoved his toad through the window with a tired, "Neville, _toad_." Then, with a final whistle, the wheels started grinding and the train pulled out of the station, headed for a place Clara knew not where - but if the wonderful bizarreness of the people on the platform were anything to go by, it was certainly a place that Clara wanted to see.

...

"No, no, no, no, NO, Blinky! Wollie doesn't think its can be. Wollie has seen them before and its isn't teeny like the rests of them. Wollie thinks its is just a witch who doesn't like the sun very much. Silly Blinky, Blinky always gets things wrong." A shrill voice somewhere near Clara's head was trying but failing to whisper quietly. She didn't move and pretended she was still asleep on the carriage floor.

"No, silly Wollie, look at its ears! They're all pointy like they should be and all the wizards just walked over it when they got off the train, theys didn't notice it at all - not like us though, not like us! Maybe this one just likes eating cakes sos it got really big. Blinky thinks it's much better to like eating cakes than not to like the sunshine. Let's go tell Dumblydore, he'll give Blinky sherberts for being good! Blinky likes sherberts!"

Clara lifted one eyelid fractionally. Two huge sets of tennis ball sized eyes goggled down at her. All thoughts of sleep gone, she quickly snapped her eye shut again. What on earth was going on?!

"But Blinky knows we mustn't. We have a pact, they sets us free from them. If it is one, we can't tell anybody, even Dumbly. We mustn't tell anybody. Blinky, we mustn't tell!"

"What shouldst we do then? We can't just leave her here if she is one of them, but if we can't tell Dumbly then what can we do?!"

"Let's wake her up and ask her if she is one, then she can tell us what to do!"

"Ok! Wake up little girl! We're in Hogsmeade!"

Clara felt a finger gently prodding her shoulder. After a moment she pretended to yawn and stretch and slowly opened her eyes. There was a face, a gnarly, creased face with huge, bulging eyes, hovering an inch from her own. Clara jumped and scooted back, then composed her expression and tried to stare the creature down. It stared back and grinned. How could it see her? She had always been able to go completely unnoticed whenever she wanted.

"Um hello, wh-wh-what are you?" she finally stammered. The creature's grin faltered and it looked confused. It turned to its companion, its bat-like ear hitting Clara in the face as it turned its head. The carriage was completely empty; Clara was alone with these two creatures.

"Wollie, it doesn't know what we is!"

"Wollie knows, Wollie heard it too. Maybe it hit its head."

"Maybe, let's ask it." The creature turned back to Clara, flicking her in the face again. "Did you hit your head? We think yous hit your head."

Clara rubbed her forehead. The creatures stared at her eagerly. To be honest, she was beginning to think that the strange creatures might be right.

"I don't know," she said thickly. "Perhaps, but I can't remember it happening if I did. Anyway, to be honest, I rather like the world like this."

The creatures looked at each other again. "But what is you though? Is you a wizard?" said the shorter, uglier one, whom Clara assumed was Wollie. It seemed to be wearing an old, ragged towel tied at the corner.

"I don't think I am." Clara said, giggling. "Although I can do one magic trick with some playing cards. Why, are you a wizard?"

"Hoo hoo hoo! No, silly girl, we is house elves!" said the other elf. He puffed his chest out proudly, only emphasising how stained his tea-towel clothing was. "I is Blinky, and this is Wollie. We are proud servants of our masters at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But if yous is not a witch, what is you? You cannot be a muggle, because muggles theys can't see us, but you can!" Clara fidgeted awkwardly. They seemed so happy, she didn't want to let them down.

"I'm very sorry, Blinky, but I'm just a girl! I'm not a witch, or a house elf, or a muggy or whatever you called it. My name is Clara and as far as I know I'm human through and through. As for being able to see you, I know how you feel - I'm more used to people not being able to see me!" At this the house elves' heads snapped to look at each other.

"Theys can't see you, ehhh?" said Wollie, stroking her chin and turning to face Clara.

"Blinky told Wollie! Blinky was right, Blinky was right! Shes is one, shes is! Let's take her up to the castle with us, she can stay in the kitchens and we won't tell anyone. Do yous want to come and live with us in the castle? We won't tell anyone yous is there. Theres is lots of nice food for you to eats there, though if yous _is_ one then yous must have had a lot of food already to grow that big hoo hoo!" He began to dance a little jig on the carpet. "Let's goes now if we is going, then you won't miss the feast!"

With the words "feast" and "won't tell anyone" Clara was convinced. Her stomach growled in approval and she leapt up happily to join Blinky in his jig. She didn't remember anything of her early childhood except the image of a tall, crooked house on a hill. She had turned up confused and with no memories on the doorstep of a children's care home just over a year ago, and since running away two weeks after arriving she had been looking after herself. Most of her food was stolen, a fact that she wasn't exactly proud of, but she tried to always leave something in return if she could. Right now, nothing seemed more appealing than a feast and a home where they didn't ask questions.

"Ok, Blinky, I'll come with you, but on one condition: you tell me what it is you supposedly think I am and why. Also, where I am and what on Earth is going on would be helpful!"

Blinky grinned slyly and took her hand.

"Wahoo! Let's go then, Mistress Clara!" said Wollie, grabbing her other hand and raising it into the air. "To Hogwarts!"

"To Hogwarts!" echoed Blinky. And with a _crack_, they were gone.


End file.
